


Two Blind Loves

by dancinbutterfly



Series: Tiny angry omega Steve [2]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1930s, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Arguing, Boys Kissing, Confessions, Knotting, Love Confessions, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Scenting, Self-Lubrication, Stubborn Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 17:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8293558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: "I know you love my boy, James, but how?" Sarah looks at him with Steve's eyes, bright blue and defiant. She'll let Steve suffer his heat alone if she has to. She'll bar the door and throw Bucky out on his behind. He'd let her, too. He'd want her to.

  The answer hits him so hard it's like being struck by lightning."Like I'm dying," he replies. "Like he's why I'm alive."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [An Errant Tumbleweed (cryogenia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryogenia/gifts).



> So [buckyballbearings](http://buckyballbearing.tumblr.com/) and I kept talking about tiny angry omega Steve and what that would happen with him and Bucky like immediately after [You're A Sweet Little Headache](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8114935) and this came out. Apparently this is apparently going to be a series. Who knew.

Bucky waits until the reasonable hour of eight-thirty in the morning to knock on the door of the Rogers' apartment. He only manages to hang on that long by the skin of his teeth because he knows Sarah is working nights this month. He loves her too much to burden her with his presence when Steve is messed up like this after she's already had a long shift. 

Even with that knowledge he's only got so much restraint. He doesn't bang on the door like a savage but it's a near thing. Sarah opens the door, blond and grey hair still pinned up from work, looking exhausted and staring through his eyes into his soul. She sighs and pushes a few errant strands back off her forehead and steps back to let him in.

"I was wondering when you'd get here, James." Only she and his mother get away with calling him that. But then, she raised him just as much as his ma so he supposes she earned it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Rogers," Bucky says and he means it. "I messed up. I shoulda done better with Steve when I realized. I was an ass."

"Language," Sarah tuts. "I'm sure you did fine," she soothes even though she probably knows damn well he didn't. She sighs. "He can be difficult."

"That's putting it lightly."

Sarah smiles at him. "Isn't it?" She chuckles and folds her arms over her chest. "So, James."

"So?"

"Mhm. My son's in heat. And here you are, a young alpha in the prime of life, in my home, looking like you ran here wild-eyed and ragged. So."

Oh. God. She knows he's come for Steve. He doesn't know why he thought for even a second that he thought she wouldn't be able to tell, to smell his desire on him. He swallows hard. "He'd kill me if I asked you."

"He would," she agrees. "I'm not going to make you. I'm going to ask you something instead. I know you love my boy, James, but how?" She looks at him with Steve's eyes, bright blue and defiant. She'll let Steve suffer his heat alone if she has to. She'll bar the door and throw Bucky out on his behind. He'd let her, too. He'd want her to.

The answer hits him so hard it's like being struck by lightning."Like I'm dying," he replies. "Like he's why I'm alive."

Sarah smiles at him. She beams like the sun. "I don't know if he'll accept you. But whatever you two decide, I'm behind you." She unfolds herself and squeezes his arm. "Don't take it personal, whatever he says. You know he loves you too."

"I know."

"I don't think you do," Sarah says, sighing again. "You will though." She pats his cheek. "I'm going to stay with Dr. Green's family down the block. They needs a shabbos goy for tonight and the Martins are out of town."

"That's nice of you," Bucky says stilted even though he knows very well that the Greens pay the Martins well for the service they provide and that Sarah can use the money.

"Yes, it's very nice of me," she agrees. Then Sarah gives him a grin that reminds him sharply that she was young once, that Steve had come from somewhere, from _something_. 

Sarah Rogers hadn't always been a Rogers. Once she'd been a dumb kid like he was, new to America, alone and unmated. The she'd met Joe and had gone through heat with an alpha who bred her with the boy Bucky would follow off a cliff. He just never made the connection before, about what that actually meant, what it would have involved. Sarah would have experienced what every omega felt, desperation and need and blinding pleasure that was more powerful than hunger or thirst or exhaustion.

The thought makes warmth flood his cheeks. Sarah chuckles at the sight. "Tell Steve where I am if he asks. Tell him not to worry. I'm not put out at all." She picks up a bag and kisses his cheek then slips out the door, leaving Bucky alone in the apartment with his thoughts and a Steve in the throes of first heat.

Steeling himself against the smell, against the pants and small angry whines he could now hear in the silence of the tiny apartment, Bucky marched to the door of the lone bedroom. Steve had been sleeping in the single room that worked as living room, kitchen, dining room, laundry and bathroom since he was twelve but he had put as many walls between himself and the world as he could now. Bucky put his palm on the cheap wood and cleared his throat. "Steve?"

"Go 'way."

"Not happening, pal."

"Fuck you."

"Already told you I would. That's why I'm here."

This is met with another curse followed by the sound of something solid hitting the door. A book? Probably a book, something from the library Bucky would bet. Steve would never throw one of his mother's things no matter how mad he was.

"Nope. You've got me for the duration. I can park myself here, read your ma's science books, eat your food, jerk off to your smell, happy as a clam. You keep on pouting in there. Doesn't bother me any."

"You're a sleaze, Buck."

"The hell I am. I'm a gentleman. I almost brought you flowers," he lies.

"Almost?"

"Well, you're allergic, aren't you? Can't have you sneezing up a storm on top of everything else. I figure you're enough of a mess but it's the thought that counts, right?"

That actually makes Steve chuckle. Bucky grins in victory. He knows some alphas, some men, feel tough after a fight or a good screw but Bucky always feels bigger and stronger when he makes Steve laugh. 

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Why're you so mad at me?" 

"Come on," Steve groans. 

"No, you come on. Call me a moron, but I don't get it." And he doesn't. Steve's angry most of the time, at the world for making him small and sick, at the people who don't use what they were given that he lacks to make things better, at himself for wanting things he can't have, at jerks who hurt the weak and even at Bucky for being the opposite of him in pretty much every way. He's used to that, though. That's normal for Steve. He's a ball of passion that bounces around the city until he hits something to fight against. He just doesn't normally doesn't fight against Bucky.

There's a long silence where Bucky can't do anything but breathe in Steve's sticky-sweet heat smell, shift uncomfortably around the hardon in his slacks, and wait. He's about to ask again, differently this time, when Steve finally speaks.

"You're teasing me."

"Aw come on, Steve. I always tease you. You tease right back. 'S just us."

"Not like this," Steve says, subdued and, Jesus, sad? Is he sad? "Buck, you're never really cruel. Not about stuff that matters."

"I'm not being cruel now," Bucky protests. "I'm here, Steve. I'm here with you. I'm right here."

"But you're not," Steve replies. Yeah, sad. He's sad. "Not really and you keep making these jokes and I'm- I always. God, Buck you've got no idea do you?"

Bucky laughs and thumps his head against the door. "Obviously."

"I feel like I've wanted you forever and you knew it and you're joshing me about it. That's not funny."

It feels like ice has been slipped down the back of his shirt. "You know that's not true."

"No? You never noticed me looking? Not once in all these years?"

He could lie, of course. He's a very good liar, has had to be to get them out of the scrapes Steve has gotten them into over the years. He's the best at lying to himself though, that his beta friend didn't want that, couldn't want that. Betas didn't go with alphas. Beta boys went with beta girls. Sometimes, an alpha and a beta girl or beta boy and omega would pair up, willing to take love over biological satisfaction but that was the exception not the rule. It was legal but rare and when it happened, the whole neighborhood would work itself into a tizzy over it, mostly because it almost never came out until the beta girl or omega turned up married and pregnant, everything hush hush without the family knowing until it was too late to stop them. 

He figured that would be Steve, settled down with a nice beta girl or a pretty omega who could see what a catch he was. Bucky never thought he'd want an alpha, not when he was for all intents and purposes a beta. Betas didn't do that, didn't _want_ that. No one wanted an infertile relationship, at least that's what he'd always thought, even if he'd looked at Steve sometimes all shiny and bright from a fight or laughing in a movie and thought "I could kiss that lower lip and taste it, just to see" so many times over the years he'd lost count. Even if he'd almost died himself every time the priest had been called to administer Last Rites over Steve's sickbed. 

"No. I didn't. Can't be too surprising though," he adds. "You never noticed me."

"That's what I mean," Steve snaps. "Teasing me. It's a mean thing to do, Buck. Shitty and mean. That's not you."

"Stop telling me what I did and didn't do, punk. You know it's you, don't you? You and me."

"We're friends." Steve sounds tentative now, like for once in his life he's letting go of his bullheaded ideas of what is and isn't reality.

"Yeah, sure, we're pals. But we're not just friends, are we? Jesus wept, Steve. Do most friends bleed for each other like we do, hurt for each other, on the inside? You feel lit up when the guys at the bar or in your art classes smile at you like I do for you? Is that friends?"

Another long stretch of silence. Instead of replying, there's a ugly squeak as Steve finally, thankfully, opens the door. He's in nothing but his boxers, looking tired and flushed. His hair is slicked off his brow by nothing but sweat and his eyes are bright. His lower lip is bright red where the upper is only pink he's been worrying it so much. And oh, oh fuck, there's slick shimmering in trails down his bony legs. Bucky wants to drop to his knees right now and lap it up like a kitten with cream.

"God, but you're a sight."

"I'm a mess," Steve says, a bitter grin twisting his lips. "This heat thing's no fun. Turns out the omegas in our class weren't kidding when they complained about going it alone."

"You're goddamn beautiful" He reaches out to touch bare skin but stops an inch away. "Steve, let me- Please. Please please, let me."

Steve shakes his head but it's not in denial. He's even smiling a little as he says, "Yeah Buck. Whatever you want."

"Thank you. Fuck," Bucky groans and without hesitating tackles Steve to the wood floor, kissing him hard as they go down. They land with a thump. Bucky has the presence of mind to put a hand behind Steve's head but that's more to pull him close than to protect his thick skull. 

Steve groans at the impact then laughs and Bucky pulls back, laughing too because jesus, Steve got in a fight not twelve hours ago. He's still bruised to hell. He probably should've been more careful but to hell with it. This is who they are, a tangled pile of pieces that work even when they're battered because they don't really care about should. 

Giggling, Bucky rubs his nose against Steve's damp cheek, along the underside of his jaw and down his neck. He smells so good, feels so good, that Bucky feels like he's drowning and for once in his life, Steve is loose. He's not fighting, is going pliant and pliable. He's giggling too, even as he arches and curves into Bucky's touches. 

"Can I have you?" Bucky asks, hands gliding over Steve's chest on the sheen of sweat. "Steve, can I? I wanted you before. I promise. But now, it's like- like I'm falling apart into you."

Steve gives him a narrow smile that's as dry as twigs in a fireplace. "There's that famous Bucky Barnes charm."

Bucky nips his collarbone in retaliation. "Oh go jump of a bridge, Rogers."

"Gotta be more specific. Brooklyn? George Washington? Williamsburg?"

"Lemme take these off," Bucky begs, dipping his hands into the waistband of Steve's underpants. They're the smallest men's size but they're still loose on him. He could slip his whole hand under, easy. "Come on."

"Triborough."

"Please. Steve, please."

"Manhattan."

"Omegas are supposed to be overcome during heat and you can list bridges," Bucky protests as he kisses his way across Steve's chest. 

"Hell Gate's got a nice view for the jump."

"You're a monster," Bucky groans, dropping his head to Steve's shoulder. "I've got the worst taste."

"Well we always knew that," Steve laughs. "Get out of these clothes, Buck. I'm dying here and you're heavy."

"Get out of yours."

"I guess I can accept those terms," Steve says magnanimously, obnoxious as ever. Bucky kiss him quick and rolls away to do just that.

Undressing is a bit of a blur. He kicks his shoes and socks across the room and something breaks. He winces but doesn't stop or slow down. He has to touch, has to have, has to be inside Steve. He wants, wants, needs. He shucks off his own boxers in time to find Steve on the floor with his face on his folded arms, knees underneath him, ass in the air. His scent is so strong Bucky can't breathe. His delicate back is curved in a perfect arch that shows off his pale skin and his soaking hole glistens in the morning sunlight.

"You're going to kill me."

"Only if you don't get inside me soon." Steve drawls back, looking at him lazily from his spot on the floor. "You don't know what it's like to feel this empty, Buck."

He doesn't but he knows what it's like to want to fill the space. He drops down behind Steve so hard his knees ache but it's worth it. It's worth it to be this close, this ready. He doesn't wait or tease this time, just fits the head of his cock against that wet, greedy opening and pushes in steady and hard. And Steve just swallows him whole, slick and easy with no resistance at all. 

Steve moans long and loud the first time he's filled up, loud enough that there's no way the floors above and below didn't hear him. It's the most amazing thing Bucky's ever heard in his life. He wants it again, so he pulls back, almost all the way out and pushes back in again and there it is. There's that moan, throaty and deep and so fucking loud. He pulls that noise out of Steve again and again as he thrusts into him deep and hard, trying to keep the speed steady as Steve rolls back into him, giving as good as he gets, just like he always does. That's his Steve. 

His Steve who, Bucky is hit with the realization, thought that Bucky never saw him, that he didn't recognize and desire Steve as a beta. That he thought for even one second that Bucky didn't want to be here, with him and inside him, from the moment he knew how to want was unacceptable. 

"I did," Bucky pants, wetly against his skin. "Wanted you. Wanted you since we were kids, Steve, and you're better than I fucking dreamed."

"You dreamed?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." He speaks into the hair at Steve's nape as they rock together. "Knotted my fist dreaming about your mouth, your ass, your face, just you." It's all true and Bucky feels filled up too, in his chest like his ribcage is going to explode out of his body.

"Knot me now," Steve pants. "Now, now, now, Buck, Christ."

"Pushy shit." Bucky gasps into the back of Steve's neck. He worries the back of that slim neck with his teeth and barely resists the urge to bite as his dick locks itself tightly inside Steve's ass. The breath is stolen from both their lungs as they come together, shouting down the building. They crash to the floor with a of neighbors shouting at them to "Shut the hell up!" 

That makes them both chuckle as they fall limp and wasted to the floorboards. Bucky sags boneless on top Steve for all of ten seconds before he gets an elbow to the stomach. "You're killing me," comes Steve's falsely-muffled groan.

"Hang on." Bucky slides his arms around his chest and upper thighs to carefully roll them both onto their sides. It's awkward and Steve hisses when Bucky's knot tugs at his rim a little as they move.

When they finally settle, uncomfortable and tangled on the dusty wood, Bucky feels like he can breathe for the first time since Steve slammed out of his apartment last night. He squeezes Steve close to him around the chest, maybe a little too tight, and kisses the space under his ear. "Thank you for letting me in."

Steve's fingernails dig his upper arm, pressing crescents into his skin. "I was stupid. I believed you."

"I was telling the truth."

"Yeah." Steve sighs. "I guess we'll see."

Bucky defiantly puts his leg over both of Steve's and tangles him closer. Steve's doubt makes him feel cold but goddamnit, he's not going be frozen out now.

**Author's Note:**

> Titled after the song "Two Blind Loves" by E. Y. Harburg and Harold Arlen. I'm trying to stay on the theme of songs from '39 and below about medical maladies :D
> 
> If you enjoyed this please consider commenting or reblogging from [here](http://dancinbutterfly.tumblr.com/post/151895665115/two-blind-loves-dancinbutterfly-captain). 
> 
> See you next time! I'm always around on [tumblr](http://dancinbutterfly.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk :D


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